Welcome to Paradise!
by Zangai
Summary: (Reposted) GeorgexArashi. Taking place before Yukari entered their lives, just why DOES Arashi call George a pervert...?
1. Chapter 1

**Author Note**:  
  
This fic was done with the assumption that Miwako and Arashi didn't know George all that well before they joined the Paradise Kiss Fashion Crew... I'm not sure what the timeline on this is, but I'm assuming that they started working together before they had George's Uncle's bar, and before senior year.  
  
This will be a George X Arashi fic, although they won't end up dating or anything like that. This is supposed to be what was going on in their lives before Yukari, and why Arashi thinks George is such a bad guy (pervert)...  
  
**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

  
  
Feckin' Nancy Boy.  
  


  
Arashi slunk down in his chair, thin arms crossing over his chest as he watched the honors student lean forward, pouring coffee into the two cups on the table. He wasn't sure what was pissin' him off more right now, the fact that he'd already volunteered to work for three other students and been rejected, or that Koizumi hadn't said a word since he'd come in the room, other then "Take a seat."  
  


  
Truthfully, he knew very little about this guy. Well, of course he knew that every feckin' teacher spoke highly of Koizumi and said he was going to make it one day. What the 'ell did that mean, anyway? Was that supposed to mean that Arashi was destined for absolutely nothing?  
  


  
That wasn't entirely the truth. They had been in classes together; all of which Koizumi excelled in. He was easily becoming one of the most known students...  
  


  
A noticeable scowl had begun to form over Arashi's pierced mouth at this point, safety pin twisting at an odd angle. Koizumi was adding milk and sugar to their beverages, that condescending smirk still visible on the blue-haired youth's face.  
  


  
Exhaling sharply, Arashi sat up quickly, hands grabbing the arms of the chair. "Well?! This ain't some feckin' tea party! Are you just gonna sit there or are we gonna get down to business?!"  
  


  
George blinked, features blanking as brows rose, that false look of naivety showing. "Oh... I had no idea that you were in such a rush to talk about 'that.'" Leaning further across the table, a teasing smile played on his lips. "Although I must say, I don't usually go for punks like you..."  
  


  
Arashi's eyes widened as he sat back, sweatdropping and more then likely blushing, two things he found himself rarely doing. What the feck?! Was this guy hitting on him, or talking about the fashion group he wanted into?! This meant that all the rumors about him were true! "This Koizumi guy is a bloody poof," he mumbled, more to himself, trying to regain his composure.

  
  
George's sight narrowed as he relaxed back in his chair, hands folded in his lap. "What did you say?"  
  


  
Feck this. Arashi's scowl resurfaced as he snatched his coffee, slurping loudly before speaking. "I said, 'This Koizumi guy is a bloody poof'!" he snarled. The designer's attitude was already rubbing him the wrong way.  
  


  
Letting out a little 'hnn', George nodded. "That's what I thought you said." His teasing half-grin reformed as his cool gaze locked with Arashi's. "Please, call me George."  
  


  
Eyes boggling almost out of his head, Arashi practically gaped. He hadn't denied it!! And he was -staring- at Arashi. Openly. Unabashed. Staring. Fighting the urge to squirm under the inspection he was receiving, Arashi shoved his chair back, putting the coffee cup back on the table, the liquid sloshing over the rim to stain the tablecloth. There had to be another honors kid to work for, no reason to get mixed up with a poof like this! "I'm goin'... Waste of my time."  
  


  
George watched silently, his smile only growing wider to Arashi's retreating form. "You know, an adorable student named Miwako already agreed to work for me, and formally signed up. I don't think I've ever met such a cute, tiny girl. I think I'll enjoy her working under me."  
  


  
Arashi froze mid-step, hearing the way George was talking about Miwako, HIS girlfriend. There was no mistaking those hidden implications... Spinning around, two long steps carrying him back to the table. He reached across it, grabbing the front of George's velvet vest and yanking him a good six inches off the seat of his chair. "Miwako is MY girlfriend, you bastard!! And would you make up your bloody mind?! Are you gay or not?!"  
  


  
Of course, George already knew that Miwako was Arashi's girl. Miwako had told George her entire life story, as well as that of her older sister and boyfriend. "Well, since you asked so nicely, I'll tell you. I'm bisexual," he explained perhaps a bit too easily, seemingly unmoved by the violent nature the blond was showing.  
  


  
Upper lip curling back, Arashi unceremoniously released George, and hovered near the table, unsure if he should leave or stay. If Miwako had already agreed to work for this guy, he definitely didn't want her alone with him.  
  


  
George motioned to where Arashi had been sitting before. "Sit."  
  


  
Almost not realizing what he was doing, the guitarist sat down. George really did have a way of commanding those around him with hardly an effort.  
  


  
"I've seen your work," George started, level tone revealing nothing of what he thought. "It was good, the stitching and color choices, although the overall design lacked in originality."  
  


  
"I already heard all this before! If you're just gonna sit there on your high and mighty feckin' horse, rubbing it in my face, then I'm just gonna leave!" Arashi threatened, making as though he intended to stand up again.  
  


  
Barely holding back a smirk, George shook his head slowly. "Arashi, I've spoken with the other selected students." He loved having the upper hand, and that shown through with the way his eyes gleamed. "I'm your last option. The few left you haven't spoken to don't want to meet with you, for obvious reasons," he said, purposely straightening his vest to make a point.  
  


  
"You think I give a shite? Ha! I don't need a fashion group; that's not a requirement for graduation, anyway," Arashi spat in self defense, disliking the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew he'd probably pissed off more then one of the honors students, but he hadn't realized it had been that serious.  
  


  
"You're absolutely correct. You -don't- need a fashion group to graduate," George readily agreed, much to Arashi's surprise. "But... You're easy to read, Arashi. I know you want a group to work with, and..." he went on, the faint change in his tone making Arashi even more uncomfortable. "I want you..."  
  


  
Cheeks flamed again as Arashi nearly fell out of his chair. If the pervert touched him, he swore he would give George a good punch to that pretty boy chin of his. "What?!"  
  


  
George canted his head, as though he was wondering why Arashi had reacted like that. "I want you to join my fashion group. What did you think I meant?"  
  


  
Maybe he was just imagining George was coming on to him. That was a very scary thought. Ignoring the question, he finally processed what had been said. "Wait.. That's it? I'm in?"  
  


  
Nodding, George stood up, hands on hips. "Yup."  
  


  
Arashi rubbed the back of his head, trying to decide whether he should thank George or sock 'um once for being so strange. "Uh.. Okay." He watched as George put on a blazer that matched his slacks, then a color coordinated hat.  
  


  
Smiling, George walked towards Arashi, placing a hand on the blond's lower back, urging him towards the door.  
  


  
"What are you doing? Don't touch me!" Arashi stumbled out of George's reach, swatting at that 'friendly' hand.  
  


  
"Easy there, tiger," George stated flatly. "Let's go."  
  


  
Frowning, Arashi didn't reply as he made his way out of the room, somehow resisting the urge to glance over a shoulder and keep an eye on George to make sure he didn't try anything funny.  
  


  
Safely outside, Arashi turned left, waving a hand over his shoulder in farewell as he started down the sidewalk. Time to get home.  
  


  
Hooking his fingers around the back of Arashi's belt, George held still, smirking when he felt the other's body give a little jerk as it was stopped suddenly.  
  


  
Instead of the ranting outburst he expected, George was greeted with hit upside his head. "DON'T TOUCH ME!! AHHH!" Arashi shouted.  
  


  
George rubbed his sore bump, somewhat surprised and definitely interested. Most of the insane ones at Yaza Arts were already taken. "You're going the wrong way. The diner is -that- way," George said, pointing in the opposite direction.  
  


  
Gnashing his teeth, Arashi's hands formed fists, as though he meant to strike George again. "Why the 'ell would I go out to eat with you?"  
  


  
"We -do- need to discuss your job in the group, where we'll meet, what times are convenient for us." George's grin was nearly ear to ear, so mocking that it was as though he were just begging for Arashi to hit him again. "Don't worry, when I ask you out on a date, you'll know it. This is strictly business."  
  


  
Considering that Arashi had no idea what George defined business as, it was no shocker when he gave the designer another knuckle sandwich.


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you coming?"  
  


  
Arashi muttered something obscene.  
  


  
George straightened the tie he wore, looking back to the other. "I didn't realize how shy you were at heart, Arashi," his sultry voice chimed as he opened the door to the diner, waiting for Arashi to enter first.  
  


  
Holding his position on the sidewalk, Arashi just glared... He was starting to get the feeling that this would be the permanent expression he wore around George.  
  


  
The building before him looked relatively normal, as far as food joints went. In fact, he'd been pretty gung-ho about entering (as it's common knowledge that Arashi does have a bottomless pit for a stomach). That is, until he saw one of the customers leaving. The guy was wearing a skirt, cowboy boots, and an open jean-jacket... Ignoring the horrible sense of fashion for the moment, Arashi's jaw had dropped when he realized the crossdressed man was wearing lipstick and fake lashes...  
  


  
No... The Lotus Lounge wasn't your run-of-the-mill diner. It was a bloody poof resort. And Arashi wasn't that hungry anymore.  
  


  
George purposely looked down to the gold wristwatch he wore.  
  


  
Arashi ran the tip of his tongue over the portion of the safety pin in his mouth. "Doin' this for Miwako's sake," he quietly reminded himself, rudely shoving past George to step inside.  
  


  
The designer beamed with pleasure.  
  


  
Arashi stopped dead in his tracks, only two feet in, stunned to the point that he didn't say anything as George stood only an inch behind him. He was unable to react.  
  


  
If he thought George's blue hair and personality were weird, those things were nothing to compare to what he was seeing now. The room was filled.. FILLED.. with Yaza Art Loonies, as Arashi to tastefully liked to term them, the type of weirdos he spent damn near all his time avoiding.  
  


  
No stranger to group hang-out spots, normally Arashi dealt with other punks, whose styles were influenced by the metal rock scene in America as well as the underground rock scene blossoming in Britain. There were some of those Elegant Gothic Lolita fans that hung around with his clique as well, but even they were tolerable. Granted, their outfits were pretty off-beat, but they looked -nothing- like this.  
  


  
There were men in petite Lolita-esque ensembles, matching dolls and purses in hand... There were girls with neon hair and Victorian era petticoats... Someone was dressed in a spandex bodysuit, his/her head shaved clean down to the skin... Another favored that dramatic look that wasn't mainstream (yet), skin tanned to almost black, hair bleached and burnt to an albino white, eyes decorated in similar colored makeup... An entourage of every color imaginable, glitter, platform shoes, and body paint.  
  


  
No two people looked alike... Oh yes, this was a poof resort alright. And for some reason, he and George were attracting quite an amount of attention.  
  


  
"A new boy already, George? I'm so envious!" cooed a young boy from the booth nearest them. Somehow, Arashi kept his jaw from dropping as the 'boy' climbed onto the lap of a transvestite sitting beside 'him', and the t-shirt with the word "Queer" written across it tightened across the 'boy's chest to reveal two very unmasculine bumps (surprise, the 'boy' is actually a girl!).  
  


  
Arashi sweatdropped and fixed a stony expression over his features. God.. Would they all just pick a gender and stick with it already?!  
  


  
Shaking his head, Arashi forced himself to tune back in and actually listen to what was being said between George and that boyish-girl-thing, and ended up catching just the last fragment of it.  
  


  
"...And, well," George was concluding, smugly draping an arm over Arashi's shoulders, "He's my new boy."  
  


  
"You--" Arashi started, boxing glove on and ready to K.O. George. Just being in a place like this put him on ultra defensive.  
  


  
"Wow! Isabella will be so thrilled to see that you got another guy to join your fashion group!" the drag queen (who was with the boyish-girl-thing) said.  
  


  
"Neeeeee! I'm so ENVIOUS!" whined the genderless hybrid (Arashi's new way of referring to the boyish-girl) again.  
  


  
Arashi felt his left eye twitching with a nervous tick, the sweatdrop only growing in size. Who, or rather, what was Isabella?  
  


  
Miwako was going to spend a very, v-e-r-y long time making this up to him. Yes, he'd already decided that she was to blame for everything that had happened thus far this afternoon.  
  


  
"Come sit over here," George beckoned to him, having already moved across the diner to select a booth for them to sit at.  
  


  
Making his way across the room, Arashi kept his sight in line with the tips of his heavy boots. Not because his shoes were all that interesting, but because if he made eye contact with any of the students around him, they immediately thrust a hand out, demanding to shake his, or, demanding a kiss (which he wouldn't be caught dead giving). Oh yes, Miwako was going to have to do a whole lot to make this up to him, and George...   
  


  
Well, Arashi had already vowed to murder that blue haired bastard.  
  


  
Sliding onto the bench opposite George, Arashi snarled. Too bad George just didn't like to take hints.  
  


  
"You're quite the popular one," George laughed, either not sensing or choosing to ignore the other's obvious discomfort.  
  


  
Arashi grabbed up a fistful of the designer's jacket in a heartbeat, arm drawn back to beat that annoying grin off his face.  
  


  
"Georgie!" called an exquisite tenor voice, and Arashi looked up to see a giant flurry of silk, jewels, lavender curls, and vanilla scented perfume headed their way.  
  


  
"What the bloody--" the blond started.  
  


  
Arashi's eyes widened to the size of half-dollars as George pressed a thumb to his lips, cutting off his rude questioning even as the designer's other four fingers cupped his cheek. Having already pulled George a portion of the distance over the table, the blue haired youth came closer still.  
  


  
"This is one of the members of my fashion group. I don't want you to give Isabella any lip, got it?" Hypnotic sapphires sharpened their gaze, drilling the point home.  
  


  
Just when Arashi was starting to think that George didn't care about a damn thing... 

  
  
Arashi cleared his throat. He could have easily pulled away from the other's touch, but it was as though he were frozen. "Uh... Yeah... Sure, you--" he stammered.  
  


  
"Shh!" George whispered, coming even closer. "If you don't argue, and you behave, I'll let you use your 'dirty' words on me later."  
  


  
Yes.. George definitely had a deathwish.  
  


  
"Oh, my!" Isabella gave a little holler as he rushed to the booth George and the punk-blond were sitting at, Arashi having knocked over a waterglass as he climbed across the table to pulverize George into the cushions of the booth.  
  


  
Finished with his work, Arashi re-took his seat. He even flashed a grin to Isabella. Arashi hated George; he'd decided that two minutes into meeting the guy. But, smackin' him around some did put the guitarist in a better mood!  
  


  
Meanwhile, all the while whispering 'Oh, dear,' like some healing mantra, Isabella fanned George with the menus he carried. "Georgie? Are you alive?"  
  


  
George slowly sat up, one eye closed as he nursed a few more bumps. Provoking Arashi was definitely George's newest and most favorite pastime, especially when he made the blond blush and sweat- but it did have its drawbacks. "I'm fine." That infamous, million dollar smile surfaced. "You're looking lovely, as usual, Isabella."  
  


  
Isabella just grinned, basking in the compliment with rather girlish delight.  
  


  
Arashi watched skeptically, not sure how he should be taking all this.  
  


  
"Isa, I'd like you to meet Arashi." George looked to the blond.   
  


  
Isabella followed the designer's gaze, somehow maintaining a polite smile, despite his unease. Arashi -had- just been beating the stuffing out of George... "My, hello there."  
  


  
Arashi at least made an effort. He gave a short wave.

  
  
"Isa, Arashi will be the final member of our fashion group," George announced, waiting for Isabella's reaction.  
  


  
The cross-dressed male's smile faltered for a moment before it restored itself, and he nervously toyed with strands of his hair. "Oh.. I.. How marvelous! Welcome then, Arashi. I'm sure we'll all get along splendidly," he said sweetly, almost as though he were trying to assure himself.  
  


  
If the crossdressed guy always used words like 'splendidly' and 'marvelous', Arashi got the feeling that somehow they wouldn't...  
  


  
"Alright, I'm ready to order," George said, handing Isabella back one of the menus.  
  


  
Arashi blinked, scrambling to grab the other one and look through it.  
  


  
"Excellent choice!" Isabella said when George told him what he'd like.  
  


  
Arashi frowned, mumbling to himself. "Too many selections... Hey!"  
  


  
Isabella giggled softly (while Arashi paled) and took the menu from the guitarist. "Don't worry about it, honey, I know just what to bring you."  
  


  
Arashi grew even paler as Isabella walked away, but not before giving the blond a friendly wink...   
  


  
Miwako was -so- going to have to make this up to him.  
  


  
"Ready to talk business, while we wait for our meals?"  
  


  
Arashi shrugged. "Speak."  
  


  
A frown threatened to surface at Arashi's less than caring attitude. "First thing then, what days can you come to work on the clothing?"  
  


  
"Whenever."  
  


  
". . .'Whenever'?" George echoed.  
  


  
"Except on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday afternoons and nights. I've got band practice," Arashi bragged, not even trying to hide his proud smirk.  
  


  
"...Are you the lead singer?" George asked, actually sounding interested.  
  


  
"Naaah.. Lead guitarist."  
  


  
"Good, then it won't matter if you have to quit. Which you do," George said calmly, pleased with himself.  
  


  
"What?" Arashi snapped. "What the 'ell do you mean I 'have to quit'?"  
  


  
George's tone grew slightly mocking, gaze sharp. "Did you think that I would choose someone to work for me who couldn't hold their part of the load? I won't tolerate it."  
  


  
"Oh, really?" Arashi snickered. "And what about Isabella? He's a waitress.. er.. waiter. Won't -that- interfere with the group?" he fired back, certain that he'd won the argument.  
  


  
"This job is temporary- Isa will be quitting as soon as we get the last member to our fashion group, and you're him," George retorted, never missing a beat.  
  


  
"Well... I quit then!" Arashi shouted, defeated. Sitting up, he pulled out his cellphone, punching numbers rapidly. "And if I'm going, I'm taking Miwako with me! I'm sure you know by now that her sister went to Yaza Arts, so I'm positive if I ask nicely, she'll pull a few strings to get Miwako outta workin' for a crazy bastard like you!"  
  


  
George's blue eyes formed narrow slits, like that of an angry cat. He did -not- like to be in this sort of position at all. Grabbing the phone along with Arashi's hand, he quickly pushed the 'Off' button.  
  


  
He could have sneered at that annoying grin Arashi wore. "Change practice to just Tuesdays and Thursdays, and we won't have any problems," George reluctantly sighed.  
  


  
"Deal!" Arashi said, putting his cell back in his pocket. See? It wasn't -that- hard to get the better of George! Of course, everything he'd said had been a lie. Mikako would never use her status to get his sorry arse out of something as silly as this (and had told him just that on more than one occasion).  
  


  
George couldn't possibly let Arashi have the last word though, or think he'd won. "Your dedication to your music is refreshing, Arashi... If you put forth that sort of attitude with our clothing, you just might earn my admiration," he smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author Note**:  
  
o.o Oh... I think people have lost interest in this story (or maybe Paradise Kiss fics in general?! I hope not!!).  
  
Well, enjoy! (for those of you still reading this ^o^)  
  
--**Zangai**  
  
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"Screw you -and- your admir--"  
  


  
Steaming plates of food interupted the would-be fight. "Here's your orders!" Isabella chimed.  
  


  
Ah.. Food. The one thing that could tame even the wildest of creatures. Arashi's irritation was forotten as he instead peered down at the meal before him, leaving the fork next to the dish in favor of the chopsticks that were in the middle of the table (the diner -did- serve mainly Westeren foods, after all).  
  


  
Tentatively, he took a bite.. True, he did eat most anything, but in a place like this, Arashi was sure they could botch up the food.  
  


  
There was no need to be skeptical. It was delicious. Arashi had never tasted a curry dish so mouth watering! Forgetting, or not caring, that George was sitting directly across from him and had to watch, the blond began shoveling in the grub, practically swallowing it whole.  
  


  
George's chopsticks halted midway to his mouth, not sure if he wanted to smile at Arashi's sub-par table manners, or make a smart comment about farm animals and blond rock-star wannabes... He wisely chose the first.  
  


  
"Wow.. This is really somethin'!" Arashi garbled out between bites.  
  


  
"You like it then?" Isabella asked hopefully.  
  


  
Arashi paused, glancing over. He'd forgotten Isabella was still there. "Uh.. Yeah! It's great!" The blond actually sounded sincere.

  
  
"Yes, Isabella certainly has a knack for coming up with new recipes," George said absently, beginning his own meal.  
  


  
"This is your recipe?!" Arashi was already half-in-love-- but not in a GAY way --with Isabella.  
  


  
"Why, yes," Isabella confirmed. "I cook all the time, for George and myself.. Now that you're joining us, I'll be cooking for you too." The effeminite youth sounded beyond flattered, and was starting to take on a motherly tone.  
  


  
George was forced to smother his snickering with a sip of water when Arashi actually cheered to Isa's words.  
  


  
"Enjoy your meals, I better get back to work," Isa said before leaving, wiggling his fingers in a little wave, manicured nails a shade of delightful purple.  
  


  
The designer smirked to himself when he saw Arashi happily waving back. "The way to a man's heart is definitely through his stomach."  
  


  
Arashi stuck his tongue out (devoid of food, thankfully). "You're not gonna ruin my lunch with some smart-ass remark."  
  


  
"Obviously," George muttered flatly.  
  


  
A few moments later, the designer set his chopsticks down and pushed his plate forward an inch, finished, though he'd eaten next to nothing; he really hadn't been all that hungry in the first place. "I'd like to talk a little more about the fashion group, Arashi. Quite honestly, I'm not trying to form a group that's just going to make a dress, win the contest, and go back to wasting their time sketching designs and flipping through magazines. I want my group to become a permanent unit, to constantly work together, even after this year's show."   
  


  
George tilted his head, a distant look in his blue eyes. "I want to -create- something with my group... Something extrordinary, clothes that won't fit the norm of fashion trends, clothing that not everyone will or can appreciate. In a way, I--"  
  


  
"Hey, you gonna finish that?" Arashi asked, pointing to the remains of George's meal.  
  


  
Trying to regather his thoughts (Arashi *had* cut him off in the middle of an excellent speech), George blinked a few times. "I- No.. Take it," he motioned to his plate. "Back to what I was saying though.. In a way, I want to be able to look at our group's work as an art. That's what it is, if you really think about. . ." George's voice died down as it became apparent that Arashi wasn't paying the least bit of attention.  
  


  
Lightly tossing the napkin that had been laid across his lap onto the table, George rose with his normal grace and sighed. At least Arashi hadn't swallowed that safety pin yet. "I have a few engagements to attend to," he began.  
  


  
Arashi arched a brow. Chye, the feckin' Nancy Boy wasn't going to let him finish his lunch (rather, George's at this point) in peace. "And what, I gotta go along with you?"  
  


  
"As fun as that would be," Arashi snorted at George's obvious sarcasm, "I'm afraid you can't come with me." George slid on his sunglasses and smiled brightly. "Cheerio."  
  


  
Bloody George... Though, 'cheerio' was better than 'tah-tah'... "What? Wait.. That's it?" Forgetting his food for the moment, Arashi glared at George. "I didn't come to this feckin' restaurant for nothing, yanno."  
  


  
"Of course you didn't. Lunch with me is never just 'nothing'," George readily agreed. "Did you want a goodbye kiss..?" He started to lean over the blond. "Or something.. else?"  
  


  
Arashi sweatdropped and shrunk down into his seat, kinda like a snake ready to bite. George sounded absolutely serious! "What?! No, you poof!" God, he hoped no one was looking.  
  


  
George sighed again, straightening. "Well, what then?"  
  


  
"I meant, like, where are we meeting? What time am I supposed to be there? You know!" This -was- supposed to have been a business lunch, right?  
  


  
"Hmm." The designer rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, there's no way around it then. We'll have to finish discussing things tomorrow night. A little get-together, if you will, the four of us, to iron out the details."   
  


  
A small, white business card fluttered down, and Arashi shot a hand out to catch it before it landed in his plate. Quickly skimming it over, he glowered up at George. "What the feck is this? This is--"  
  


  
"The best nightclub in the area. Don't worry, I personally know the owner, and we won't have a problem getting in. I think a celebration is in order... The circle is complete, I've found my chosen ones," the blue haired youth stated, a genuine smile hinted on his otherwise cool expression. He spoke with utter seriousness, his sight taking in every inch of Arashi...  
  


  
The blond, for the life of him, couldn't think of a good enough comeback when he was trapped in that enslaving, blue gaze. Shifting his focus back to the meal, he swung a hand out, giving George a shove. "Fine, I'll let Miwako know about it. Don't you think you should be on your way? Being -such- a busy guy and all," Arashi sneered.  
  


  
With a twisted little smirk, George turned on a heel, starting on his way. "If you want anything else, feel free to order it. Isabella will add everything to my tab," he called as he left. George couldn't help but wonder if his offer was the wisest-- Arashi was already halfway through the remainder of his order.. Who knew when the punk would be full?  
  


  
Giving a small snort, Arashi mumbled to himself as he ate. "Feckin' Nancy Boy.. Thinks he's hot shite just 'cause he's got 'connections'.. Chye. Whatever."  
  


  
Finishing shortly, he sat back, grinning when Isabella came to check up on him.  
  


  
"How was everything?"  
  


  
"Feckin' A, mate!"  
  


  
Declining Isabella's offer of another helping, he watched as 'she' began stacking the empty plates on a tray. "I just wanted to tell you again that I'm pleased you'll be joining us, Arashi." Call it a woman's ego, but the fact that Arashi was impressed with his cooking had definitely helped Isabella forget Arashi's violent episode. "And , I hope you don't think I'm intruding, but did I hear correctly? You play guitar?"  
  


  
"Oh, yeah," the blond started cautiously, wondering if he'd recieve another order to quit. "My Pops is a musician, so I been playing since I was old enough to hold a guitar."  
  


  
"My goodness! To come from such lineage, and with so many years of practise, you must be quite talented," Isabella mused outloud, a knowing smile gracing his features.  
  


  
Arashi's head swelled almost as much as his chest puffed out from that compliment. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard, trying to get along in this little fashion group.   
  


  
But Miwako was still gonna have to do a lot of 'making up' for this one.


End file.
